


never need a reason

by Val_Creative



Series: 28 Days of Femslash February 2019 [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Best Friends, Birthday Cake, Birthday Sex, Bisexual Yasmin Khan, Bubble Bath, Canon Related, Cunnilingus, Cute Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Humor, Lesbian Thirteenth Doctor, Nudity, POV Yasmin Khan, Romance, Sex in a TARDIS, TARDIS Rooms, Thirteenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Yasmin flusters the Doctor while they’re spending time alone in a gigantic, foamy bubblebath. She’s not the only onesmitten.





	never need a reason

**Author's Note:**

> DAY TWO DAY TWO DAY TWO DAY TWO,,, I'M A LITTLE TOO EXCITED. Alright yeah I'm done anyWHO it's Thasmin Lovin' Hours featuring " **Pink** " for [Femslash February's prompt](https://femslashfeb.tumblr.com/post/182336252301/any-world-any-medium-as-long-as-theres-girl) combined with " **Bathing - Bath Sex** " and I'm just AAAH. Thasmin fans! Hope you love this! Any comments/thoughts welcomed!

 

*

Birthdays tend to not be impressive.

Yasmin appreciates the Doctor trying for her — even when the cake literally exploded into her face.

There's still dried, pale rose flecks of Sontaran Frosted Boom _rubbish_ crusting on Yasmin's forearm. She picks them off carefully, wincing and rubbing musingly over her naked, dark brown skin.

Most of the TARDIS's room had been plastered with doughy, thick and atrociously pink frosting. Ryan and Graham volunteered to clean up, while the Doctor softly apologised and grabbed onto Yasmin's hand, lacing their fingers and guiding them towards the far-end of the TARDIS's corridor. A timeship that could grow its own rooms and this particular one was full of steaming, visible heat and bathing waters.

With a fierce, challenging grin towards a semi-confused Doctor, Yasmin quickly stripped off her gigantic, frosting-ruined jumper and shorts, leaping in with an excited cry. Her soaking-wet bra and knickers peeled off next, getting tossed forgetfully onto the immaculate and lustrous bath-room floor.

She had never seen the Doctor turn so _red_ before.

But that was then, and now Yasmin rests on the edge of the bathing-pool, combing her fingers through the Doctor's gold-blonde hair and removing the greasy, nasty cake-crumbs. "And I told Sarah Jane, _no_ , you cannot just go 'round picking the flowers on Zaakros," the Doctor recalls, leaning with her head comfortably on Yasmin's lap, bobbing in the multitude of shiny, magenta foam and iridescent-pink bubbles, keeping her nude form covered. "Even if it was a lovely bouquet. So much colour. _Revolting_ fragrance. It had a stench about it… just like the putrid meat festering between a Neogorgonite's toes."

" _Lovely_ ," Yasmin mutters, the corners of her mouth ticking up. She watches curiously as the Doctor glances up and tipping backwards, her expression fading into mischief, turning around in the water.

That's when she feels the Doctor's lips _on_ her, suckling and mouthing lightly on Yasmin's vulva, the Doctor's hands wandering and crawling over Yasmin's trembling knees. Holy _shite_. Yasmin moans out, arching herself and fisting into gold-blonde hair.

She's never done… _they've_ never done… _this_ …

Kisses, yes. Chaste and _sweet_ and giggling. Yasmin has seen the Doctor naked, and likewise, but…

Yasmin shuts her eyes, breathing out, palms digging into the bathing-pool's edge when the Doctor's tongue lathes over her folds, searching her out, _mapping_ her in a clear display of eroticism.

One of the Doctor's hands slides from the top of Yasmin's knee, over her belly, feeling for Yasmin in a gentle, worshipful reverence, massaging over her sternum. A thumb nudges over Yasmin's breast, pushing against a dark-rosy nipple, causing Yasmin to buck harder into the Doctor's face.

The ceiling returns into view, spinning and blurring when Yasmin's orgasm hits her. Her moan heights into a whimper and Yasmin feels herself cradled protectively into the bath, sinking, _relaxing_.

"… … Lovely," the Doctor repeats, sounding hoarse and pleased. " _That_ … you are, Yasmin Khan."

*

 


End file.
